Monday, March 3, 2014

INTERVIEW: Grace R. Duncan

Today we are talking to the fabulous Grace R. Duncan who is celebrating her publishing anniversary! <3

Hello
Grace and welcome to The Hat Party!
<3 Thank you so much for subjecting yourself to the RANDOMNESS that is a
Raine O'Tierney interview! Please don your best hat, and let's get started!

Me as McGonagall during the Deathly Hallows release party.

Haha!
Thank you for inviting me! I am happy to be part of the craziness.

What is your favorite writing
memory?

The
first time a reader demanded more of a character. This was the first time
I felt like I could do this original writing thing. Mind you, I’ve been writing
for years, but, as with many authors,
it was for me. Then I picked up some
fanfiction and started doing okay with other people’s characters. Eventually,
inevitably, I included an original. And when one of my readers kept demanding
more of him, I really felt like I might be able to do more than write for fun.

You can go back to any point in
your life to give you past self a pep-talk. How old is your past self and what
do you say?

I’m
twelve. And things are looking very
bleak for me right now, like nothing good is ever going to happen again. I am confused
and lost and more than a little frightened. I’m not sure who I am, or who I
should be.

I’d
tell me first and foremost that it does
get better. A little cliché, at this point, but true. I tell me that I already
know who I am which is who I should be. I say that I am going to go on to be an
amazing person with kids and an awesome partner, and they all look up to me. I tell me that, yeah, there will be some
seriously rough spots, but we’re tough and strong and we’ll get through it with
flying colors.

To
have one of my stories made into something for the screen. Big, small, doesn’t
matter. I’d just love to see someone else bring my characters to life.

A
slightly less wild dream would be to either stumble across fanfiction of my
stuff or find someone interested in co-writing with me.

What would you do for a Klondike
bar? And substitute “what would you do” with “Would you face a poisonous snake”
and “for a Klondike bar” with “for a writing contract”?

Oh
honey! I have zero shame and even less inhibitions. LOL! I get some amazing
contracts through our publisher, Dreamspinner Press already.

On a
slightly more serious note? Bleed on the page, but isn’t that what we already
do, really? Pour our hearts and souls into a story, essentially putting blood,
sweat and tears into it, give it all we’ve got.

So, you and I have something in
common—super supportive husbands! Tell the world about yours :)

Oh, he
is amazing! If I’d asked you ten years ago if my husband would be reading my
male/male erotic stories, I’d have laughed my ass off at you. Instead, not only
is he reading them, he critiques them, reads—and comments on—the sex and draws me amazing artwork from them! He’s even done some very sexy, NSFW(or,
really, anyone) pics of my boys! One of my favorites is this one of Bathasar
and Teman.

Hub did the lineart and I did the
coloring. We’ve collaborated on quite a few pictures like that, including some
of the very sexy ones. I really love this one because I felt he captured their
emotion so well.

You can see more of his amazing art at his deviantArt gallery (for the SFW stuff) or
his Y!Gallery profile (NSFW. Requires
registration, 18+ only).

Would you walk across the country
on foot for the assurance of a Big Six publishing contract?

Once
upon a time, I’d have said, “absolutely!” Now… I’m not sure. I might walk
across the country just for the hell of it. But the Big Six has changed a lot
and I’m not entirely sure that they’re really all that worth it. Especially
with what I write. I love my men, I love exploring the dynamics between two
men. And I am not sure the Big Six are ready for that. ;)

You have 200 words—Make. Me.
Swoon. (PLEASE!)

It’s
215. :P Brevity is not my strong suit
(as evidenced by the fact that Choices
is 167k, Deception is 139k and No Sacrifice, after its first edit, is
still sitting at 206k).

Their
tongues touched and the kiss exploded into heat. Bathasar slid both hands up
Teman’s back, one threading through Teman’s brown hair, fisting and pulling
until his head was tilted back. Bathasar dove in and bit at his neck, dragging
a loud groan from him, and then nipped a line along skin until the sensitive
spot where neck meets shoulder was could be bitten.

Bathasar
yanked Teman in until he straddled his lover’s lap and he bucked, needing to
grind, needing friction, his cock demanding attention thanks to the bites and
hair pulling. He tangled on hand in Bathasar’s hair, the other braced on a
shoulder, and he tried to rock more, but then Bathasar’s arm was back around
his waist and holding him still. Which only succeeded in making him want
and needeven more. Bathasar’s name came
out on a long, low moan that was answered with a soft growl.

Bathasar
pulled his mouth off of Teman’s skin and looked up, releasing Teman’s hair.
They both panted hard to recover some form of normal breathing, though that
seemed impossible with the need rioting through Teman’s body.

“A year,” Bathasar said, still
scrambling for air. “A year we’ve been together, and you can still almost turn
me into an animal from a single kiss.”

What is one mistake you’ve made
during your writing career that you’ve learned and grown from?

Not
ignoring reviews. I still have mixed feelings, whether their editorial or
reader reviews, on just how much they truly “help” a reader because, in the
end, it’s still one person’s opinion,
right? When Choices came out and I
started reading the reviews, I was crushed. I’d put so much into the story. So much of me into the characters and it
was very difficult to pull back and remember that it’s not personal. Those who got the story, loved it. Those who didn’t…
didn’t. And that doesn’t mean I’m an awful writer. Just that my words didn’t
resound with someone. I’ve taken from that the knowledge and reminder that I
can’t please everyone. And that has helped me form my mantra: “Write the story
that needs to be written.” (Which is, not-so-incidentally, printed and taped to
the top of my monitor.)

Is it harder for you to talk for
an hour straight or stay silent for an hour straight?

Talk.
I can stay silent for hours while I work. But talking… well, I end up trailing
off a lot and getting embarrassed. LOL

And finally, for THE most
important question of all: what kinds of dachshunds are the BEST kinds of
dachshunds?

No doubt about it. They are
loving, sweet dogs. And I had one as a teen. She was the most amazing girl, so
sweet, put up with so much. I miss her.

Deception

Cyrus
and Nadir first met as hungry orphans on Behekam’s streets at twelve years old.
They became friends, then partners in the thievery that enabled them to
survive, and as they passed their days together, they fell in love. When they
are both taken as pleasure slaves in the opulent palace of the Malik of Neyem,
love becomes more complicated.

Rumors of an attempt on Malik Bathasar's life put Cyrus and Nadir's
relationship to the test—they must pose convincingly as intimate slaves to the
young malik as part of a plan to lure the assassin into the open. Teman—Malik
Bathasar’s real personal pleasure slave and true lover—was once trained by
Cyrus for the same duties, and the attraction and care Cyrus developed for him
then still remains. The Malik of Neyem proves an easy man to love and Nadir’s
feelings for him grow while they’re pretending to love each other.

Cyrus and Nadir care deeply for each other but they’ve forgotten the first rule
of love: communicate in honesty. Their love remains strong enough to weather
the changes—if they have the courage not only to face the coming dangers, but
to put aside deception and find their truth.

* * *

Excerpt:

Bathasar
nodded. “Indeed. It is a splendid idea. Very well, then, Nadir. Lay back on the
table, if you will,” he directed, and they shifted the chair forward until he
could do so. He was still straddling Bathasar’s lap and leaned back, his
shoulders and head resting on the table, back arched. “Beautiful,” Bathasar
murmured, dragging a hand down over Nadir’s chest. He teased glans and length
around coils with his thumb, tracing open skin until he reached Nadir’s balls.
He weighed them in his hands, cupping them and playing until he pulled a low
moan from Nadir’s throat. “Mmm, yes,” he whispered, releasing them.

Teman
lifted a small bowl from the table and dipped a finger into it, then painted
Nadir’s nipples in the sweet cream. Bathasar leaned forward and slowly licked
the cream off, causing a gasp and moan, Nadir gripping the edge of the table
next to his hips hard as the pleasure spiked. “Cyrus, it’s your turn,” he heard
Bathasar say, then saw Cyrus leaning over him, fingers covered in cream. He
drew long lines over Nadir’s chest, and he and Teman took turns licking the
cream off of Nadir’s skin.

Nadir
gripped the table harder, his back arching more at the feel of their tongues.
He felt a finger tease his cock again, and he groaned, unable to hold in the
sounds anymore. His length swelled, filling the snake once more, balls
tightening as he was teased to the edges of tolerance. Cream, then honey, then
fruit—each of them finding new ways to arouse him further with it. Here, they
painted his lips, then licked it back off, not giving him a full kiss, just
enough to make him need more. There, they lay bits of fruit in a line over his
chest, eating them off of his skin and making it even more sensitive.

He
was going crazy, yet again robbed of coherency. However, none of it was enough
to push him to the edge, and he was grateful for it. He didn’t know how he
would take that again. He already needed and had no idea when he might
be given relief.

They
fed him too, giving him small bits of fruit through kisses. Bathasar coated a
finger in honey and allowed him to suck it off, causing his own cock to jump
and harden even further as he thought about replacing Bathasar’s finger with
the man’s cock. And through it all were whispers of how he pleased them, how
beautifully he did, and Nadir reveled in it.

When
the dessert was gone, Bathasar took a wet cloth to clean the sweet off of his
skin, and sensitive as it was, he moaned even louder as the cloth moved over
his chest. Then it was tossed aside, strong arms helped him up, and he was
locked in another kiss with Bathasar. He moaned, giving everything he could to
it, his hands going into Bathasar’s hair. He was rewarded with another of those
pleased hums, and Bathasar rocked, their hard cocks brushing, then grinding.

Grace
Duncan grew up with a wild imagination. She told stories from an early
age - many of which got her into trouble. Eventually, she learned to
channel that imagination into less troublesome areas, including fanfiction,
which is what has led her to writing male/male erotica.

A gypsy in her own right, Grace has lived all over the United States. She
has currently set up camp in East Texas with her husband and children - both
the human and furry kind.

As one of those rare creatures who loves research, Grace can get lost for hours
on the internet, reading up on any number of strange and different topics.
She can also be found writing fanfiction, reading fantasy, crime,
suspense, romance and other erotica or even dabbling in art.

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Meet the Hostess!

Raine O'Tierney is an M/M romance author who loves celebrating other authors, asking probing questions about dachshunds, and generally supporting the creative process! Plus she thinks hats are worth throwing a party over!